I told my daughter recently that I was ready for something new. A new vision, a surprise, an unexpected adventure. Even something as mundane as a new hobby. The human spirit longs for refreshment and renewal. Being older doesn’t change that.
But we need to be careful what we
wish for.
I went on an unexpected adventure
last week, and I’m still recovering. Extremely weird symptoms on Monday night,
along with a high fever, prompted us to dial 911 (a first for us), and it
proved we were smart to do so. Once in the ER, the staff tested my blood and
urine, then told me they were admitting me to the hospital for an infection. I
wondered why they didn’t just give me an injection and a prescription, then
send me home. At the time, they didn’t use the term sepsis. They told me I
seemed to have pneumonia and a UTI. Hal
and David, our son, looked worried, so I told them to lighten up. I’d probably
be out the next day.
All the hospital beds in the ICU
were occupied, which a nurse told me was typical on a holiday weekend. So I
stayed in the ER for 21 hours. The bed (examining table) was wretched, but the
staff was marvelous—kind, friendly, and helpful in keeping me informed. I
managed to sleep part of the time and was woken at 11:00 pm to be wheeled up to
the ICU where a room was finally open.
Again—wonderful nursing staff and
attending doctors. Each nursing assistant apologized before sticking me with
another needle. It was sort of comforting. At one point three different
medications were flowing into my body through three different ports. (I can
show you the holes if you like.)
But I kept asking myself, “Why am
I here? Why all the fuss?” The medications were doing their job and, other than
all the tubes and holes and blood-drawings, I felt fine. Sort of fine, at
least. The next morning when David asked me how I was, I told him it felt like
all my internal organs were happy, all getting along with each other. It was
like a river of peace flowing through my body. I got to order my meals from the
cafeteria. They were nourishing, but I felt more grateful than ever for the
retirement home where I live and its gifted kitchen staff.
The next night the assistants woke
me at 12:02 with “Happy New Year! We’re moving you to a new room in the regular
ward.” I knew I was getting better. I enjoyed the ride down the hospital
corridors; those people move fast.
I get the days mixed up, but soon
I got the happy news I could go home, taking the rest of my antibiotics in
pills. That was on Thursday.
The reason I’m giving all these
details is that it really was a new adventure. The only hospital experience
I’ve had was the births of two babies and having my tonsils removed at
three-years-old. In fact, I thought being a hospital patient might be like a
mini-retreat. A room to yourself, time to read novels, and meals served to you
on a tray.
I no longer think that way.
When I got home and read the
after-visit-summary, I learned that the primary diagnosis was “Severe Sepsis.”
Listed under “diagnoses also included” were UTI and pneumonia. That sounds like
a lot.
It was a lot. I’ve since learned
how blessed and protected I was. We got to the hospital early enough in the onset
of sepsis to have a good chance at successfully treating it. The staff was
alert and swift in getting me on the right medications and admitting me. And
everything worked as it was intended to work. With such a diagnosis, getting
out of the hospital in three days seems also miraculous. Thanks to the prayers
of so many people and to the grace of God.
Hal and I are more aware now of
the fragility of life, especially in this stage of growing older. Advanced age
is not a disease. It’s part of the seasons of life. Yet it does include
increasing physical challenges and, for some, mental challenges. We are more
aware of the privilege of having loved family members and friends around us and
of the accompanying privilege of cherishing those people. Of cherishing each
other and not letting a day pass without affirming and blessing those around
us. We can’t know what the next day holds or what kind of adventure we will
encounter. What counts is how much we love one another today.
And, of course, grace. Whatever
the adventure, the loving-kindness and grace of God hold us tight. All this
fragility is a passing condition. Someday—complete freedom and life.
